


Baby Birch

by nuealite



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst, Family Loss, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-17 18:45:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18104249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nuealite/pseuds/nuealite
Summary: There is an empty crib in the middle of an empty room.





	Baby Birch

There is an empty crib in the middle of an empty room. 

The nursery wasn’t empty once— once, the pastel yellow room was warm and inviting, freshly painted with every brush stroke containing a whisper of expectation and adoration soaked deep into the walls. On the these walls hung white frames filled with flowers they’d picked themselves on those long walks they would take through the fields near their town. Everyday Johnny and Taeyong would walk through the town, hands and hearts intertwined, only thinking about the future and what new beginnings it would bring. They would browse the meadows and the wild flowers that grew, Johnny searching on his phone for which flowers held the most significance for what they wanted to convey and Taeyong running around trying to pick the most beautiful of the bunch; lavender for tranquility, buttercups for childish and youthful joy, baby’s breath for purity, for innocence, for everlasting familial love.

For a newborn baby. 

There was once a mobile of planets and stars that hung from the ceiling, bathing the nursery in soft shadows of the planets that sway and the bells that chimed lightly with every gentle breeze. They had chosen the space themed mobile only after Taeyong had managed to wheedle Johnny away from his preference for the ocean themed one, he was particular attracted to the cute whales that hung from there, by arguing that their future baby couldn’t be restricted by the confines of earth. He was going to be an explorer, he was going to travel to space and touch the moon with his own hands. He was going to play amongst the stars and outshine them all, leaving trails of stardust all over the house; an interstellar room for their interstellar child. 

But the room lays empty now, gathering dust until the walls are yellow only with age and the adoration in the walls fade away, leaving behind only grief and despair. 

The only flowers that dare to decorate their house now are chrysanthemums; for mourning. 

The mobile now lays forgotten in an unmarked box in the attic. The planets no longer spin for their axis is gone. 

The stars will stop shining and space will go unexplored. 

Sometimes, Taeyong will come home from work and the nursery door will be open. He’ll gather all his courage to push the door open and he’ll see his husband standing next to where the crib lays. Johnny stands, hands resting on the crib railing. The dust coats his fingers grey and dirty but he doesn’t seem to notice, eyes staring straight down at where their baby would’ve laid his beautiful little head. 

“I would’ve adored him.” He doesn’t turn around when Taeyong comes in, silently wrapping his arms around his husband’s waist, but he leans back into the touch, taking one hand off and resting it gently on top of Taeyong’s.

“I know.”

“I would’ve taken him the moon. To the stars.”

“I know.”

Their voices never rise above a murmur, a quiet declaration that could only be shared between two would have been parents and the child they would never have.

“You would’ve taught him how to bake.” Taeyong’s grip on Johnny’s waist tightens for a moment; it was one of the things he’d wanted most.

“He could’ve been the world’s greatest baker.”

“Only because you would’ve been his teacher.” That manages to coax a smile out of Taeyong. Still small, still marred with devastation and lost hope. But a smile nonetheless.

“You would’ve taught him how to take pictures with those dumb fancy cameras you collect.” And Johnny stills, breath caught in his lungs and eyes blinking back the sudden sting of tears that gather. 

“Yeah.” He manages to find the breath somewhere between a gasp and a laugh, and pull it out of his throat. “And I would’ve loved every picture he would take.”

“Because he would’ve been ours.” 

They can’t stop their tears now and Johnny takes his hand off the railing and clutches it to the one already clutching Taeyong’s, turning around to embrace Taeyong finally, hiding their faces in each other’s necks, shoulders shaking, the silence of the empty room being broken by muffled sobbing.

Because Baby would’ve been theirs. Wholeheartedly. 

Baby who was supposed to come home to a beautiful warm nursery filled with trinkets and toys that Johnny and Taeyong had worried over for months and months. Baby who was supposed to open his eyes and the first thing he see be his two fathers, with eyes filled with tears and bright smiles adorning excited faces. Baby who was supposed to laugh and smile along with his fathers, Baby who was supposed to keep his fathers up all night with his crying and fussing. Baby who was supposed to misbehave but get away with it because he would smile at his dads and they would forgive him in a heartbeat. Baby who would’ve grown up never feeling anything but the love that Johnny and Taeyong would’ve given him.

Baby who was supposed to be the light in their eyes.

Baby who was supposed to be theirs. 

But Baby doesn’t make it out of the hospital. Baby dies in the dead of night, surrounded by doctors and nurses who tried so desperately to save him, who worked for hours, pumping that tiny tiny chest and cried with Johnny and Taeyong when they tell them the news that night. That baby dies before he even gets to see the light of the sun. 

Baby will never see the faces of his fathers, see their tears of joy and bright smiles as Johnny held him for the first time after his birth, wrapped in only the softest of blankets and walking through the doors of their little house with the white picket fence. Baby will never hear Taeyong whisper in his tiny tiny ear, “welcome home, baby.” as he opens the door for Johnny, for Baby, into the nursery.

Baby will never see the yellow walls so painstakingly painted, or the flowers so carefully picked. Baby will never get to look up in curiosity at the planet mobile above his crib, swaying gently in the breeze, and wonder if he too could touch the moon and dance across the stars. Baby will never laugh as he runs, leaving stardust in his footprints around their little house and Taeyong would puff out his cheeks in stress but leave him be to explore the universe, just because he loves him. 

Baby will never walk, swinging hand in hand in between his fathers, through the meadows just outside the town. Baby will never wade through the wild flowers and compete with Taeyong, seeing who can pick the most beautiful ones so they can cut them from the stem and place them in vases around the house. Baby will never have Taeyong and Johnny let him win every time, just because they love him. 

Baby will never listen carefully, big brown eyes staring up at his dad as Taeyong tries to guide him to making chocolate chip cookies. Baby will never make a mess trying to pour the cup of chocolate chips into a bowl, making Taeyong sigh and Johnny laugh from behind him as he steals the stray ones on the counter. Baby will never see his fathers take a bite of his creation and have Johnny pick him up and spin him around, declaring them the best cookies he’s ever had, even if there is a little bit too much flour and the cookie are over baked, just because he loves him.

Baby will never fumble clumsily with the expensive fancy camera in his hands, making Johnny cry out in alarm and Taeyong break out in peals of laughter at his worry. Baby will never take his first picture with the fancy camera and have Johnny and Taeyong sing his praises to all who could hear them. Baby will never see that photo framed so lovingly just above their mantle place.

Just because they love him.

Because they would have. Wholeheartedly. 

But nursery lies empty, the crib unslept in. 

The walls have faded and the flowers have withered. 

The floors are immaculate with only phantom footprints of stardust remaining.

Baby doesn’t come home from the hospital and takes a piece of Johnny and Taeyong’s heart with him. The only sound that fills the house now is one of would have been fathers mourning their lost child.

Be at peace baby. Be gone.

**Author's Note:**

> so this is what happens when you're PMS-ing and listen to baby birch by joanna newsom on repeat all night. 
> 
> thank you to @lunalius for funding this project, your contribution will be noted.


End file.
